


everyone's a monster

by anotherbuskitten



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fae & Fairies, Gen, Not compliant with MCU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-14
Updated: 2015-02-06
Packaged: 2018-02-04 13:58:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1781563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anotherbuskitten/pseuds/anotherbuskitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce and Natasha are outcasts in a world made of outcasts, which is a little unfair really. Clint is Clint.</p><p>They will watch him and protect him and they will not leave, regardless of his humanity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The reason I don't tend to write multi chapter fics is because I'm not very[any] good at writing lengthy things. But I've been writing this for a while and I've gotten enough chapters done that I should at least consider putting it somewhere.
> 
> Well that and I'm not sure I can stay in character for long periods of time. And I'm not fantastic at updates unless the chapter is prewritten.
> 
> (No /of course/ I haven't just started chap6, that would be ridiculous)

\\\\\1///

The first time they see Clint in action is at the circus. The hunts have stopped altogether now and they are hungering for excitement.

The circus is chosen because of the animals; large, majestic, scrawny lions and running dogs who’ve never hunted and zebras with human filth scattered on their skins.

And the horses of course; Bruce is there mostly for the horses. He likes the free noise the wild ones used to make in the deserts.

Natasha likes the lion’s warmth and the dog’s pride and the zebra’s stories. Natasha likes the chatter-chatter humans make before they die.

Bruce likes the sweet tang of their blood.

But back to the circus, Natasha wants them to be freed during the show to run and run and run all over the humans but Bruce has /policies/ about hurting children so she agrees to wait until it’s over. They watch the opening acts with boredom and heckling until the centre climax comes in the form of two men in tight, showy costumes and swords.

Natasha bites her tongue and leans ever so slightly forward, Bruce, because he is far gone in her eyes, pushes Confusion into the arena and the complex fight falters for a moment before the elder man strikes as though it is a true battle and the boy is a proper villain.

The boy’s eyes open wide and shocked but he affects understanding and parries quickly. The side of his costume is wet with blood and Bruce _hungers._

Natasha giggles and claps her hands in childish glee.

///

After the show they sit by the cages and carriers and push each other into the burning bars and laugh at the sticky-children smell in the air.

Carnies are still superstitious even if most tales had been turned pretty and charming. It’s a little reassuring to know that they’re still feared; even if it is only as boogeymen.

Bruce fumbles with the zebra locks while Natasha makes quick work of the lion’s. His fingers tangle in their manes and for a moment he imagines overtaking their gallops and chasing all of the humans away from the Greens.

Natasha sneaks behind him and pushes him into the now empty cage with a cackle before crawling in after him and lacing their fingers together.

He sighs heavily and falls back into the stale hay. She smiles, all teeth, and pushes her burns onto his arms; they slide over his skin before vanishing altogether.

They stay like that for a while, whispering different fantasies of mortal deaths to each other.

///

Clint is tired and woozy and generally put-upon. He was berated for allowing a hit, for not being in a fit state for shooting (which was a complete lie; he could aim just as well with an injury as without) and again for being cut. And then Barney had surfaced long enough to get into a fight with Swordsmaster.

And now he was pretty sure he had just watched a lion run away into the road. But, concussion? It felt as though the only part of him that wasn’t aching was head.

He turned and skulked off towards the animal enclosures, he’d be in trouble if someone found him near them but he needed to make sure he wasn’t going mad. Although that would definitely be preferable to losing the lions and the circus going under.

Nearing the cages he could see that they were no longer covered and felt his heart speed up in trepidation.

This didn’t look good.

///

“…and we’ll tear their skin from their bones and fill them with acid and sulphur until they burn forever, but we won’t let them die and we’ll stuff their heads with nightmares and endings and you can eat their brains and I can suck all their life away and…”

///

That sounded worse. Clint slowly backed away and promised himself he wouldn’t stumble when he lied the next morning.


	2. 2

\\\\\2///

They follow the circus until its defeat some months later. They grow sort of attached to the little archer and sometimes send him small apologies for the attack.

Bruce sends him Hope and Dizzy-Joy and tiny sparks of Fix.

Natasha serenades the boy’s trailer and leaves him winter flowers and bottles of swamp water.

When the circus dies and all the players go their separate ways they leave as well. They go back to the Court and scream from the stands and heckle the nobles and stink of iron and dust and oil.

They both get quietly, politely shunted out even though it’s open forum and Natasha flicks the dirty human air at the guards.

They go their separate ways then; still laughing and pressing sticky kisses on each other and singing circus tunes.

But they both tire easily of Court life; it isn’t that it’s boring; far from it in fact it is just that the mortal world is – new.

They used to be an accepted part of earth stories; they were the monsters in the shadows and the whispers in the wind. Stories changed quickly though and now the humans never noticed their magics.

Nightmares were fun but not being known appealed to the both of them.

They followed Clint in their own time though, no longer working as a team or staying in touch. They run into each other sometimes but don’t really talk.

Clint is fun. His life is interesting: first a carnie, then a crook, then a vigilante, and then spy.

Bruce likes watching him as a spy the most though Natasha, on one of the times he passes her, says the morals are boring. Bruce doesn’t think S.H.I.E.L.D is that into morals but he doesn’t say so, just grins and shows off his new shifting trick.

Several years had passed since without a single meeting between them and Bruce missed her. Not enough to go and find her space or anything but enough that he might actually speak next time he saw her.

///

Clint had mostly forgotten that night; a vague memory of a day that he could have done without but nothing more.

His life had changed since then anyhow and most of the S.H.I.E.L.D goons didn’t know he came from the circus at all.

He had moved up in the world.

So his home was small and cramped and badly decorated and his job was underpaid and he got way to much stick for using arrows.

And he might be a little lonely sometimes and his nightmares had only gotten worse and he’d had to kill his brother and…

Well, that was a train of thought he wished he could avoid.

But things were looking up nonetheless.

Things were looking up.


	3. Chapter 3

\\\\\3///

The Ironman thing started it off. Intellectually they knew that but they pretended otherwise. They’d been worried for a bit but really Stark’s suit didn’t have much iron in it. Not enough to burn.

Bruce wrote him a letter about proper branding.

Differently made humans were all over the place though and they didn’t really get the attraction. The Court was full of freaks and little disasters.

Like a shifter who only had two shapes and knew too much about Emotions.

Or a shade who wouldn’t follow orders and still bled.

Walking broken acts, that was them. Why shouldn’t humanity join in the fun?

The Ironman thing started it but because they had little interest in Stark they didn’t pay much attention.

And then an Æsir fell to earth. Thor.

They started listening then. The Æsir weren’t part of the Court just as the Greens weren’t counted as a single realm. The Greens were everywhere and everything and couldn’t be relegated to one world.

But they knew the realms. Midgard, they knew the best because they had lived in their stories for the longest time.

Asgard was the Shining World and because its magics were so beautiful their people wouldn’t fit; it wasn’t right to sully that much brightness with monsters and nightmares and twisty, twisty thoughts.

Niffleheim suited them better but there was nothing living there so visits were few.

They daren’t go to Vanaheim often, though it is not because of the glory. There is much glory there and somedays even more brightness than Asgard but mostly the brightness is dulled. It is very similar to the Greens in that way.

Jotunheim didn’t have much life in it either but the Jotun used to be on good terms with members of the Court so they visited often enough. That was before the war of course.

Alfheim is almost the same as home if they blur the edges; the differences lie in that Alfheim is solid and the Greens slip in the edges. The difference lies in the light elves being light and themselves being nothing of the sort.

Svartalfheim was Alfheim’s opposite and the Greens’ warped reflection and a place for either play or war but nothing in between.

Nidavellir had little in the way of magics and far too much of a work ethic.

And as for Muspelheim, well their people had long since outstayed their welcome in Surtur’s land and despite many millennia having passed his hatred did not seem to have lessened.

Still, for Bruce and Natasha, Thor’s coming was a grand thing. They both left the city’s fumes and grime and visited the red rock deserts of New Mexico.

There were others there too; beings they hadn’t seen in many years though no one they knew well nor anyone important graced the land.

The mortals didn’t notice them; even S.H.I.E.L.D with their fancy technology paid their whispers no mind. Bruce said that perhaps it was no slight and only a misappropriation of _Mjolnir’s_ energy. Bruce was a fool for mortals though and an optimistic one at that.

Natasha thought S.H.I.E.L.D must know about them, thought that even mortal stupidity must have boundaries. It doesn’t count as optimism, she says; if the outcome’s bad for them.

 _Mjolnir_ was beautiful in the way that things of Asgard always were. They laughed when the mortals tried to lift her but never strayed close enough to be tempted themselves.

There was something tempting about goodness and heroism. A sickening light that shone on broken wishes; when they had been young, it had been easy to think they could have it.

///

Thor was, for lack of a better description, _shiny._ Even in a mortal body he was still brilliantly charismatic and desirable. He told the mortals he had been banished but that made little sense to the two of them and they left for Asgard.

The journey was slower than usual, for the Odinsleep calmed the magics of Yggdrasil and lengthened the pathways between realms; this made them even more suspicious as the few unguarded months seemed a foolish time to banish anyone from the kingdom.

Upon their arrival they discovered their unease was not unfounded; Loki, second son of Odin and trickster extraordinaire, sat on the throne.

They liked Loki, though, he was not Æsir but Jotun and they liked the Jotun. None of Asgard talked about his genes though and despite a predisposition for mischief none of the Court had ever asked the obvious questions.

Bruce agreed to stay and watch Asgard while Natasha returned to Earth.

Asgard was dull but not maddeningly so. He preferred Earth and her shadows and sparks of light but it was bearable, at least, watching Loki’s pride and amusement and utter boredom. Bruce would never understand people who wish for responsibility.

Back on Earth, Natasha had been happy when their archer joined the guard around _Mjolnir_ but was growing bored by the lack of activity.

 As a mortal Thor was becoming maddeningly dull; he was gaining the knowledge of mortality that the Æsir lacked and because of it he was gaining other talents such as _humility_ and _understanding_ and a _guilty conscience_.

She hadn’t even been able to muster a smile at his failure to retrieve _Mjolnir_ though she knew many of her kin would be mocking and heckling. It was good that Thor couldn’t see them, although as a mortal he would be less of a challenge for those who weren’t trained.

As for the archer, he had little to do. Surveillance, alongside paperwork to be caught up on made for boring entertainment.

Thor had made friends which was _sweet_ in a ridiculously human way; she’d mock him for his sentiment except she didn’t particularly enjoy hypocrisy.

She could only hope that Bruce was having as miserable a time on Asgard.

///

And then Thor’s friends came down to visit, Bruce following quickly after with news of Loki’s (unsurprising) madness and (more surprising) the gossip that Loki’s heritage wasn’t public knowledge. Which, now she thought about it, explained quite a bit.

“I still don’t see what’s so wrong with being Jotun?” Bruce complained as they watched the armour burn the little town apart.

“He’s got terrible aim: look he hasn’t hit a single mortal. The archer was here for a while by the way.”

“You get all the luck.” He rolled his eyes, “All I got was Odin snoozing and Asgard going mad.”

“All of Asgard?” She dodged out of the way of a stray flame.

“Well Loki and Frigga mostly but the rest are struggling without someone to look to.”

The flame lapped at their feet. “It’s all science nonsense down here; you weren’t missing much.” She consoled.

“No arrows?”

“None.” She pouted in disgust. “At least you got to see Heimdall fall.”

“Pah. Loki didn’t even kill him. What’s the point of that?”

“I told you; he’s not even trying anymore, and no one can have aim that bad.”

“Well, it’s a poor time to discover a conscience if you ask me.”

///

They sat on the edge of the Bifrost, just out of view, and stared into the blankness below.

“Suicide’s a bit much if you ask me.”

“They won’t.”

“They were only at war once.”

“What is it with you and the Jotun?”

“I like blue.”

“I like green.” She leaned into him. “Do you think there’s anything down there?”

“We could find out.” He risks a glance at her, “If you want?” She might think he’s a fool for humans but he’s always been a bigger fool for her.

“I like earth too much. Maybe when our archer’s dead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shifter: has many forms but can’t hold a steady mind with all the changes, usually blurry to look at.  
> Shade: disappears, fades away when no one’s looking, always soldiers, born into one body and never change or grow.


	4. Chapter 4

\\\\\4///

Of course the real excitement happened later. Heroes and monsters and death and destruction.

“It’s everything we could wish for.”

“Who are we rooting for?”

“The archer.”

“Who’s _he_ rooting for?”

“Probably the heroes.”

“We should help him then. Wake him up.”

///

That’s the first time Natasha and Bruce meet Clint Barton officially. He’s sneaking through S.H.I.E.L.D when Natasha grabs and subdues him and Bruce pushes all the Confusion from his mind.

“W-where am I? Who are you?”

“You can call me…‘Widow,’ I think. And he’s…’Hulk.’”

“Hulk? Oh that’s lovely, is that my defining feature to you?”

“Oh definitely.”

“Can you two stop flirting and tell me what’s going on? Did they get the helicarrier working, is everyone alright?”

“We’re on the helicarrier. And I don’t know if anyone died, we were busy with you.” Bruce checked the archer’s mind once more and finding nothing, left his side.

“Busy doing what?”

Natasha smiled, “I do like spies. We were making sure you didn’t have anything left of Loki in you.”

“You’re not on his side.”

“Slow aren’t you? Though I can see why you’d be confused considering my friend’s fondness for Jotun.”

“What?”

“You should go and find your team.” Bruce scowled as he heard footsteps the closed door, “And don’t die; we’ll take it personally.”

“What?” Clint watched in confusion as his rescuers? vanished as though they were never there.

///

The fight was, in Clint’s opinion, disappointingly short. It wasn’t that he enjoyed fighting (although that was also true) or that he wanted New York to be destroyed just that he didn’t feel he’d managed to work Loki, or the confusion that came after, out of his system.

He hadn’t told anyone about how he got free from Loki’s control. Instead he told Fury that the confusion of trying to fight himself had made him clumsy and he’d fallen over and knocked himself out. Stark and Pym said that this could work because of – something to do with neuroscience that Clint didn’t understand.

He did get to shoot Loki, only the once but it lessened a little of the guilt for a while. Clint didn’t have many friends, at S.H.I.E.L.D or otherwise so discovering that Coulson had died while he was out of commission had startled him to his core.

He didn’t really want to go and eat shawarma with the ‘team’. He wasn’t hungry; he felt far too ill to eat and he didn’t know any of the others in the group.

The only one he really had anything in common with was Captain America but Clint had no real desire to trade army stories.

He was half-tempted to ask Thor about Asgardian mind control just in case but the alien seemed oddly fond of his murderous brother and Clint didn’t feel up to a verbal argument nor to hearing anything of negative value about his mind.

He’d heard of Stark a few times, second-hand from Bobbi Morse who had been watching him recently in an attempt to recruit him. Clint wished Bobbi was here so he’d have someone to talk to.

Pym and Van-Dyne were so wrapped up in each other that he doubted they’d notice even if the battle started up again.

It didn’t take much to excuse himself and leave the table. Clint leant against the cool brick of the restaurant and buried his head in his hands. He breathed deep and looked up at the surrounding carnage.

As far as he could see New York was in ruins; buildings were crumbling and broken, bodies; human and alien alike lay scattered around, out of the few sheltered spaces people were appearing; clearing the debris and making sure injured parties were moved somewhere safe. And above it all Stark Tower towered above them with the remaining letter A blinking on and off sporadically.

Clint heaved a sigh and went to help drag bits of building away from the roads and building fronts.

He had barely been there for a minute before he felt the presence of another person nearby; bracing himself for the concerned murmuring of a teammate, he turned around.

To his surprise it wasn’t any of the people he had been fighting alongside but the woman named Widow from earlier.

He turned away and hefted a particularly heavy piece of building as a distraction. When he turned again she was less than 10 centimetres away from him.

“I’m glad you’re alive.” She purred.

“You aren’t real.” He muttered to himself. The woman laughed and picked up the other side of the rubble with remarkable ease.

“I’m realer than you.” She smirked and licked her lips.

Clint glared. “Where’s your friend?”

“Oh, I don’t know, around here somewhere I suppose.”

He gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the growing feeling of unease the woman gave him. “Were you fighting?”

“No. Just watching.”

Clint almost dropped his half in disgust. “How can you just watch?”

Widow’s returning smile was full of teeth, “We didn’t see any reason not to.”

The rock, sufficiently out of the way, was dropped down just next to the corpse of one of the aliens. Widow knelt down next to it and pried off the helmet.

“They weren’t very good, were they?” She smiled grimly up at him. “All dying at the same time like that.” She tutted. Clint turned away in revulsion and stalked off to the nearest group of cleaners. When he looked back, she had vanished.


	5. Chapter 5

\\\\\5///

Since the battle Clint had been drifting through life in a haze, drifting further and further away from his colleagues at S.H.I.E.LD due to his guilt. Despite this he still had some people, such as Bobbi, who were trying to keep him from isolating him too much.

She was, however, in the minority; most of the other agents had started to avoid Clint and almost no one spoke to him further than small talk and even that was limited.

He hadn’t seen any sign of Widow or Hulk since he walked away from Widow and while he felt no disappointment because of this he did feel he was becoming more than a little paranoid because of it.

Bruce hadn’t gone back to the Greens for almost a week, as he was far too interested in the mortals’ experiments with alien technology and biology.

Natasha didn’t have the same interest and only dropped by once or twice and mostly to watch Clint. She hadn’t approached him since the battle ended but she and Bruce had still enjoyed observing him.

The other reason Bruce had for avoiding his homeland was that there had been many meetings in the last few weeks as to what they should do about humanity’s new knowledge of the nine realms. In the Council’s opinion, this made it only a matter of time before somebody remembered their existence as well and began investigating.

It wasn’t too hard to find the Greens if you went looking. Already some scientists, Thor’s Jane Foster included, had almost stumbled in.

Natasha reported back on some of the meetings but knew and cared for Bruce enough that she didn’t press the matter of his isolation.

“He doesn’t trust us.” She said as they watched Clint train for the umpteenth time. Bruce hummed in agreement.

“We should give him a present. That’s what mortals do, right?”

“On special occasions.” Bruce agreed, “Or if they’re courting.”

“We’ll do that then.” She said triumphantly.

“Court him?” Bruce laughed. Natasha counted this as a win as Bruce had been uncommonly morose lately.

“Well, not for kisses and things.” Her face twisted in disgust at the thought. “We’ll court him for friendship.”

“Alright.” Bruce said, smiling fondly at her.

///

Clint’s paranoia had gotten worse. He had, finally, stopped looking over his shoulder for his mysterious rescuers and he was back on the roster for busy work.

He had started receiving _things._

The first time it happened he didn’t even realise it was supposed to be a gift. A pile of smooth sun-pale sticks lay on his bed. They were sturdy and Clint readily remade them into arrows, assuming someone; probably Bobbi, had left them there to distract him.

The second time was more obvious; eight beautifully crafted arrowheads made of a metal Clint didn’t recognise but instantly adored. Each of the pieces had a different pattern carved into it; they didn’t seem to mean anything until he tried them on the sticks he had previously received.

One of them acted the same way as his usual explosive arrows except that it didn’t blow itself up as well.

A similar one dissolved its targets and itself in mid-flight.

Yet another gave anyone but Clint horrible burns when they touched it.

They all came back to his quiver a few minutes after impact.

The metal never dulled no matter how many times he used them but they never injured him no matter how many times he nicked his fingers on the points. He still didn’t know how they came to him but he was quickly growing happier with them than his usual ones or even the high-tech things Stark kept dumping on him.

That was the other thing that had changed recently. The team he had helped fight the chitauri with; Rogers, Stark, Pym and Van-Dyne had started trying to befriend him. Even Thor had started a few conversations about past victories with him before he and his brother returned to Asgard.

Rogers kept ambushing him in the morning and trying to talk to him about his experience. Clint felt that this was rather unfair as he knew for a fact that Rogers hadn’t attended any of the mandatory counselling sessions since he had been unfrozen.

Stark, who didn’t understand normal people, just sent him piles of arrows with complicated technology making them able to do many creative things. This was great and fun the first few times but he didn’t particularly want anything to do with Tony Stark; who Bobbie had assured him was just as much of an arrogant, cheating arsehole as the papers said.

Van-Dyne who insisted he call her Janet didn’t have anything in common with him which Clint had naively assumed meant she wouldn’t be bothering to get to know him. Instead she came round to see him at S.H.I.E.L.D, dragging Pym; who Clint didn’t think even remembered he existed, along with her so the three of them could go shopping.

After that experience Clint felt that Pym was probably the ‘avenger’ he had bonded with the most.

///

Bruce was in the middle of folding protection magics into a silver ring when the S.H.I.E.L.D alarms went off. He startled and dropped the ring, swearing as it fell down a grate from the vent he was hiding in.

When he reappeared in the room below, Natasha was there. She grinned at him and juggled with the ring. He snatched it out of the air. “I’m not finished with that.”

“Forget it. I’ve found a much better gift; you remember how his agent-friend died in the fight? Well he isn’t dead.”

Bruce blinked.

“I’m not sure how; mortal medicine isn’t that advanced yet.”

“I did have a couple of theories about the tesseract…” Bruce murmured quietly.

“No time for that now.” Natasha waved her hand impatiently. “We don’t have long until they stop running around and shouting.”

“You set off the alarm?” Bruce clarified. Natasha grinned and grabbed his hand, before pulling him out of the room and deep into the lower levels of S.H.I.E.L.D.

The secondary medical bay was dark and dank and generally unpleasant. It definitely wasn’t a nurturing area. However it wasn’t too different to how Bruce and Natasha, and indeed; any member of the Greens, perceived human behaviour towards their ill and less useful members.

Nonetheless anyone would have agreed that it was a miserable place.

The man lying in the solitary hospital bed doubly so.

Not that Philip Coulson was awake at the moment; too heavily drugged to do anything but sleep.

They could wake him, Bruce mused as he read the medical report in fascination, they could wake him with an ease unparalleled by any human machines or medicines.

“Should I wake him, do you think?”

“No.” She drew out the word for a while, “They’ll rationalise and excuse and everyone will end up happy and trusting.”

Natasha had a different idea of trust to most people but Bruce agreed that it would be boring if they got a chance to explain to the archer before his boss got wind of them and straightened things out.

“I could stop him.” She whispered, eyes alight with excitement, fingers trailing over his ribcage.

Bruce hummed in contemplation. “Not much of a gift, is it? If we kill his friend.”

“Why should they get redemption?” She hissed. If she was a mortal Bruce would have checked to see if she was crying. He slid away from the bedside to give her space.

When he turned back she had her fingers splayed atop the agent’s heart. He could hear the steady beat through the air, coinciding with his two and Natasha’s hitched breathing.

Bruce walked over and took her hand in his. “You wouldn’t enjoy them if they were like us.”

Her eyes burned but he didn’t look at her face. “He thought we should have fought.”

Bruce wasn’t sure he was meant to hear, “Well, he didn’t know any better.”

“You think he’s wrong?”

“I have neither reason nor desire to fight for this planet or its people.” He said sternly. “They have done nothing for me.”

“That’s the point though. Of heroes.”

“You can be if you want.” He shrugged, “I don’t want to try changing into anything new.”

She let out a small huff of laughter, unalike to her usual childish giggles or cruel smirk. “Why shouldn’t I kill him? They already think he’s dead.”

Bruce finally flicked his gaze toward her. He smiled at her petulant expression. “I’ll go and get the archer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last of my pre-written chapters. So based on previous experience I might get chap6 up by the end of the year.
> 
> But hey, the next chapter might have plot instead of set-up and background. [It's unlikely.]


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!  
> also ugh. I've got a cold and my brain's stopped working properly so obviously now is the perfect time to try and write more of this sodding thing/there's going to be so much talking though and I can't get their voices right/I'm pretty pleased with Bruce though/ughhhh
> 
> [steve wasn't even supposed to be here so he's especially off]

Clint had not moved into Stark Tower. He could see how someone might get the impression that he had but he was just having a long visit. None of them actually live there; even Stark mostly lives in Malibu with Pepper Potts.

Clint’s been there for almost three weeks now but still maintains he’ll leave as soon as the S.H.I.E.L.D building he’d previously been living in fixed the small holes in the roof and wall. Which isn’t to say Stark Tower doesn’t need a fuck-ton of work done on it, only that it has more stability and nicer mattresses.

He’s on friendly enough terms with JARVIS and the only other person he sees around the building regularly is Rogers who doesn’t seem to have anywhere else to go.

He isn’t unfriendly with the Captain but he is taciturn and grumpy. If Coulson or Bobbi were around they’d explain that that’s just how he is but he isn’t confident enough to invite Bobbi over and Coulson is dead.

He still hasn’t wrapped his head round that.

It was less that Coulson was _dead_ (because this was S.H.I.E.L.D and death wasn’t unexpected especially in something huge like this) and more that _Coulson_ was dead. He wasn’t like the idiot rookies who thought Coulson was a robot or something but he’d never had S.H.I.E.L.D without Phil. It was just strange, not being able to doing all those things he had previously taken for granted.

///

Bruce takes the long way to the archer; walking down New York slowly and carefully, stopping to look at the pieces of carnage still left from the battle, pausing to take in the more familiar faces and feelings surrounding him. They don’t look at him.

He thinks of Jen as he moves with the crowd; feeling as though he could reach into it and pull her out. Like a rabbit from a hat.

He feels the constant, bubbling tension and fear rise and quickly slips through the city’s backstreets to the tower. He finds himself missing the stream of uninterested parties on the street.

Stark tower looms ahead of him like something great and lasting, Bruce wonders if it will. If it will stay proud like the pyramids or crumble like most human endeavours had in the end.

The hiss and tingle of electricity that pervaded the city got stronger the closer he came; it made his mind itch and threw his instincts to hide and run into overdrive.

Bruce squares his shoulders and walks up to the door; he is going to do this properly. The woman sitting behind the desk looks up as he walks in purposely and then down again when he strolls over to her.

He is going to establish trust with the archer by doing things like a human. He is going to ask to see him.

The secretary does not look away from her screen when he stands in front of her desk or when he clears his throat and taps his fingers on the desk.

She does look up when he reaches across to her machine and pulls its life away.

“I need to talk to Clint Barton.”

Her eyes widen slightly and he wonders how many people have said those words, how many people were blaming Clint for the casualties they’ve suffered.

“My name is Hulk and I need to speak with him regarding the death of Agent Phil Coulson.” This was professional, he could be professional.

Bruce could feel the shift coming on as the woman pressed buttons under the desk, could feel the green tinting his view, could hear his heartbeats growing louder, could feel his bones strengthening and the air around him thickening and moving away.

Keeping the irritation and anger down was harder here; in public, surrounded by humanity. He’s exposed constantly; an open nerve.

He pulled himself in. This was for a good cause. The whole room was coated in green now. “Just tell him.” He managed to get out. “If he won’t see me I’ll leave.” He raised his hands and gave an approximation of an innocent smile. From her expression he doubted it had worked.

The elevator beeped open. Two men stood there. Bruce rolled his eyes as he turned to meet them; he was beginning to regret trying politeness – it was now apparent that if he’d attacked this would all already be over.

The other man, the captain, he could bring along as well. That would inspire trust wouldn’t it? Letting his friend come as well. They’d assume he was outnumbered.

“I don’t wish to fight.”

“Well what makes you think we want to talk?” Clint spat out, already notching an arrow. Bruce frowned as he saw that it was an old one.

“Were the gifts not of use?”

The arrow hit his shoulder. Startled, Bruce allowed Hulk to begin shifting out.

///

“What. The. Hell?” Clint frowned at the sudden change from small, weedy middle-aged man to massive green monster and backed up into the closed doors of the elevator.

“I…have no idea.” Steve said very slowly. “Do you know what he was talking about? Before?”

“You mean the gifts? Someone’s been sending me arrowheads.” He spared a glance at his teammate but Roger’s face hadn’t shifted from his habitual confusion. “He might have meant that but I think this…thing has more to do with the fact I just shot him.”

“Have you met him before?” Rogers was hurriedly ushering the secretary into the stairway while JARVIS put the building into lockdown. He couldn’t help but think it wouldn’t make any difference.

“I think he was on the helicarrier. It’s a bit hazy.” It wasn’t hazy. “His name’s Hulk.”

“She said he wanted to talk about Agent Coulson.”

“Well I don’t.” He loosed another arrow. It hit and exploded but the behemoth took no notice except to lower its head and growl at him.

It occurred to Clint that he might have to actually move back into SHIELD quarters. The thought brought a stifled laugh to the top. Rogers looked at him askew. Clint wished he was next to someone he knew.

Rogers nudged him. “Tell him you’ll go with him.”

“What? Are you mad?”

“Just tell him so he doesn’t lash out or something.”

Clint attempted to step forward but found himself glued to the spot. “You tell him.” He hissed.

“He doesn’t _want_ me.”

The Hulk bent down and stretched one giant finger towards them. Clint thought back to the circus and tried to think of him as just another wild animal. Another lion stuck in a too small cage that smelt of dirt and dust. Just another wild animal that didn’t have enough energy to frighten you unless you made the first move to a fight.

Except that he had already shot him with an arrow so the point was moot. He stifled another laugh at the thought of all those tortured beasts from his childhood turning huge and green when they were angered.

The finger flicked his bow and quiver to the ground and slowly lifted him up. Clint shook in terror and grasped for a knife to weakly threaten. His hands hadn’t shaken this much in years.

With the other hand the monster lifted Steve close to his chest and cradled them both. Clint could feel his vision blurring and Stark Tower disappearing. He was not going to faint.

///

_He is air and life and strength_

_He is all and everything_

_He is…_

_He is._

_He has been here so long_

_He has seen worlds crumble and civilisations fall_

_He was here long before you people breathed_

_He will be here long after you fall._

///

Hulk reappeared in the SHIELD infirmary and dropped the two men to the ground before slipping away. They’d bruise, and any trust he could have gained was lost to the wind but he couldn’t find the strength to care.

He leant against the wall and watched Natasha approach. “I didn’t get round to explaining anything.” He muttered grumpily. “You’ll have to convince them to trust us.”

She grinned and stroked the green patches on his torso. “They’ll trust me if I want them to.” She kissed his hand and let him follow the slope of the wall to the floor.


	7. Chapter 7

Natasha stalked over to the two men and moved their weapons away.

By the time they awoke she had relocated them to a more comfortable position. She smiled easily at them as they blinked themselves to consciousness

“We’re trying to be nice.” She hoped the archer will understand that this is hard for her; neither the act nor the admittance came easily to her.

“Kidnap and emotional turmoil?” Clint grinned back at her; as vicious and angry as the wild animals of his youth. When she answered her voice was far softer than intended.

“Just the emotional turmoil. You were supposed to come with Bruce of your own accord.”

“Bruce? I thought his name was Hulk? And where are we anyway?”

“He’s only Hulk when he’s green. We were just being cautious before.”

“Yeah? What’s your real name then?”

She snorted lightly. “Bruce isn’t anymore his real name than Hulk is.”

He grinned; it wasn’t a particularly smooth avoidance of the question but he’d let her have it. He didn’t suppose knowing her name would help him any anyway.

Steve grunted from beside him. His face was twisted in confusion and Clint felt a sudden plummet in his stomach at the thought of any explanation. He might not be too fond of his new team but he wasn’t sure he wanted to give them up just yet.

“Why are we here?” He wasn’t using his captain voice which might mean that he thought she was an ally of Clint’s or that he was an ally of hers and not worth conspiring with. Clint didn’t know him well enough to guess yet.

Widow’s face twisted in annoyance. “ _You’re_ here presumably because Bruce thought it was the best option. He’s here because we’re trying to be nice.”

Clint turned to Rogers, “I swear I don’t know her; this is like the third time I’ve even seen her.”

Rogers was still looking at him strangely, “I don’t think we’re in danger from them Clint. And I’m certainly not going to police your friends.”

“We’re really not friends.”

“Are you sure? She seems pretty fond of you.” If it wasn’t for the fact that this was _Steve Rogers_ Clint would swear the man was laughing at him.

Rogers grinned and stretched his arms back behind him. “If it was a proper kidnap there’d be better places to bring you than here.”

“How do you where we are? And how can you not even be a little bit worried?”

“It’s a SHIELD area medical bay. I don’t think it’s still in use though. And they’re being nice, remember.”

Clint pursed his lips. He was definitely being laughed at. “(1) How do you recognise old SHEILD places? (2) I really, really don’t know them and (3) –

“(3)” Widow’s silky voice interrupted them; “It would be wise of you not to laugh at us, mortal. I am far more dangerous than you can imagine.”

Clint swallowed, he wasn’t too sure if Rogers had a bone of self-preservation in him but he certainly did and this situation was getting metaphorically tighter the more Rogers spoke.

“Are you from Asgard, like Thor?”

“I am nothing like those fools. You hear me? Nothing.” Her mouth twisted up so that she looked almost ugly. “Reckless, timeless, warmongering, pointless fools.” She spat out; her posture changing into something angry and inhuman.

Clint closed his eyes in despair. He was pretty sure that at this point he could actually see Widow getting colder. Time to change the subject.

“Is, uh,” he jerked his head at Bruce, “He ok? It was a reflex shot I swear.” Aaand that was probably the one thing he could have said to make it worse. Well done Barton. Great show of people skills.

///

They were still sitting in silence when Bruce woke up. His back was stiff from the wall and his heartbeats were erratic but the green was entirely gone from his vision.

The atmosphere in the room was chilly as were the expressions on the three people sitting there. The mortals seemed unharmed from the shifting and him dropping them so he levered himself off the floor and padded over to the lone bed in the expanse to check on the patient.

“Leave him!” Natasha screamed, charging at him like a deranged bull, “He has done nothing but sleep since I found him. Nothing has changed. Nothing will change!”

He holds her fists back and suddenly, violently hates the mortals present with them; hatred of the sort he has long forbidden himself. He breathes out and locks the hatred away as he must.

“Do you still want to stop him?” He would not fight her now. He would always let her do anything when she was sad.

Her breath hitched, “Yes,” she lingered on the affirmative for a while, “And no.”

He lets go of her and they walk to the hospital bed together. She’s right of course; nothing has changed.

Behind them the mortals stand and cautiously walk over to stand behind them. Natasha turns to glare at them. Bruce stays to her back at focuses on the heartbeats.

Barton opens his mouth but no sound comes out; he is staring at the bed in wonder. When he makes to step forward Natasha mirrors him and growls. “No. He is ours until I forgive you.”

Natasha has never forgiven anyone anything in her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh, well done, Steve  
> now I've less idea where this is headed

**Author's Note:**

> My grasp of canon is slightly limited as I do not have enough money/time/inclination to actually purchase comics in any sort of chronology. Mostly I find panels and reviews online. I do have an idea of basic personalities and I know Bruce is happier? than he is usually portrayed and Natasha a lot less reserved and more childish? it works better like that for this story and I sincerely hope no one minds.


End file.
